


L'manberg, Act 1

by Alxmost



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dream Team SMP Spoilers, Fanfiction, Gen, L'Manberg War of Independence on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Pre-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Retelling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:29:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28167780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alxmost/pseuds/Alxmost
Summary: A fictional retelling of L'manberg from the Dream SMP.People gather, form a cause, rebel, win, start a new nation, and lose their way. Inspired by Hamilton.
Kudos: 1





	L'manberg, Act 1

JSCHLATT WAS SURE he was on the path to hypothermia. He stumbled up the stairs, his breath coming in shallow pants, and jammed his hands deeper into the pockets of his dress pants. 

He was starting to regret joining this world. He was starting to regret not wearing more under his suit.

At the top of the stairs, a tower clawed at the sky. Light spilled out of the open entrance, promising heat. Schlatt staggered up the stairs, desperately moving towards the warmth, and nearly fell into the doorless tower before realizing what the floor was made out of. Glass. The tower radiated light and heat because the glass floor covered a pit of lava.

Schlatt froze and forced himself to breathe.

Inhale. The glass held his weight. He turned, taking in the room. A dark stone made up the entire structure, the bricks gleaming dully in the light. There were no windows.

Exhale. There was a ladder at the back of the room, scuffed from wear. People had obviously crossed this floor before. He'd scared himself for nothing. 

He sank to the floor and pressed against the hot glass, still breathing heavily. He was pathetic. The cold shouldn't have shaken him so much. No matter how extreme the weather was, it couldn't kill him. He'd been able to test that in the last world he'd joined. He could still remember the lava surrounding him, the heat pressing against him, his nerves screaming—

The silence in his head was deafening. He needed a distraction. He needed noise. Instinctively, Schlatt tuned into a voice call, and voices flooded into his head. 

"—no idea what to put in them, I don't know what they could be full of." It was Wilbur's voice, the same voice that had taunted Schlatt in his lava-filled memory. The velvety British accent was easy to distinguish. Schlatt shivered and imagined himself behind a wall, receiving the voices but blocking the others from hearing his. He didn't need Wilbur hearing him like this. 

Fuck Wilbur. Fuck Wilbur for leaving him to walk in the cold, for inviting him to this world. It had been Wilbur's idea for the two of them to join and talk to TommyInnit, as if they could convince Tommy of anything. As if Schlatt was a good man who could give advice.

"Where are you?" TommyInnit's voice said suddenly, louder than the other voices in the channel. Schlatt started, frantically trying to school his expression. He caught a flash of red and white outside the tower heading down the wooden stairs he'd just come up. Tommy had run right by him. 

"In my house," Wilbur replied. Schlatt shook himself. Tommy hadn't been talking to him, but the words reminded him of the deal. He couldn't waste more time. He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it around the ridged ram horns that curled downwards and around his ram ears, then straightened his tie. He crumbled the mental wall he'd built to prevent people from hearing him in the voice channel. 

He'd made a deal with Wilbur to get on the server, and he had to see it through. 

"You ran right by me, you idiot," Schlatt said. His voice was hoarser than usual. He sounded old and confused. *A confused old man.* He could act out the part. 

"Where are you?" Tommy's voice said again, before Wilbur's conversation drowned him out. 

"In the tower." Schlatt got up. His head was clearer than before. As Tommy stepped onto the glass floor, Schlatt turned to look around the room as if he'd just spawned there, then eyed the boy. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, white except for the red sleeves, as if mocking Schlatt's trouble with the cold. 

Schlatt brushed past Tommy and back outside, angrily ignoring the cold. 

"Wilbur, you gotta tell me what the hell's going on, 'cause I am so goddamn confused," said Schlatt, cutting into Wilbur's conversation. Immediately, everyone fell silent. It was unnerving how they didn't continue their conversation over him, as the people in SMP Live would have. 

"Do you like balls, Schlatt?" Wilbur replied immediately, as if this was a normal question. Schlatt paused for a second.

"You know I like balls." 

Wilbur was doing this on purpose, to remind Schlatt of the deal. SMP Live had been a world they'd both been on, a world Schlatt didn't want to think about. If Schlatt finished his side of the deal, he'd never have to be reminded of SMP Live again. He'd never have to talk to Wilbur again. 

"Do you like houses, Schlatt?" 

"Of course I do. I'm actually prejudiced against homeless people. You shoulda seen the last homeless person I met on the streets." Schlatt turned to look around at Tommy again. The boy was still standing in the tower, his blonde hair messy and his blue eyes alight. He was also trying his best not to gape at Schlatt. 

Schlatt was playing a bit, of course, acting out a confused old man for Tommy. Wilbur had said that Tommy looked up to Schlatt and the characters he played. Nevermind that the personas were all fake. 

"It's good I'm not one of them," Wilbur answered, playing along. "I don't think I could stomach it." 

"He couldn't stomach it, either." Schlatt looked directly at Tommy, keeping his gaze level. "There was poison in the food I gave him." 

The boy's mouth quirked up. Schlatt turned, the smile engraved in his memory, and started walking again. When Schlatt had met his hero, AntVenom, in SMP Live, he'd worn that same smile. 

He needed to stop thinking about SMP Live.

"Wilbur, where the hell are you?" Schlatt demanded instead. His fingers were starting to numb again, and he resisted the urge to put his hands in his pockets. The cold didn't bother him as much anymore, but he couldn't show Tommy how pathetic he was at the moment.

"He's in his ball house—" Tommy started.

"Follow the child. The child will show you where my ball is," Wilbur spoke over Tommy. Tommy walked faster to overtake Schlatt and steered him to the right, off the path and onto a hill. He tried to say something, but this time, Schlatt spoke over him.

"Yeah, who's this child? He's like five years old." Schlatt said, leaning into the bit. He might as well make some fun of Tommy while he was here. "He's seven, tops, if I had to wager a guess." 

Tommy started to protest and Schlatt tuned him out, focusing instead on not tripping over tree roots. As he ducked under a branch, the leaves brushing against his horns, Schlatt glimpsed what they were heading towards. It was an arch-shaped hill, as if something had taken a bite out of it, and Wilbur's sphere-shaped house dangled from the arch like a lone, giant Christmas ornament.

"Although our meetings are very sparse now, I still had you in mind while building this ball," Wilbur said amicably. It was another reminder of SMP Live. 

They reached the top of the arch and climbed down the ladder that led to the ball. The ladder wobbled as they descended at the same time, and Schlatt did his best to hide that he was hanging on for dear life. He landed ungracefully in the ball with a thud and immediately noticed that he was surrounded. 

"Tell me what the hell's going on here, Wilbur," Schlatt demanded immediately. He needed to take control of the situation. 

He took the chance to glance at the others in the room. There were five people in total, huddled around the sides of the ball and staring at him. His gaze snagged on a fox-like person and his name leapt into his mind: Fundy. The guy was completely covered in fur, like an oversized fox that had learned to act like a human.

"I thought it'd just be you and me in this ball. But instead, we have a fifth grader, Tubbo, Sapnap, and this guy in a fur suit." 

His next words were completely drowned out as Tommy, Fundy, and Wilbur started squabbling about whether Fundy was wearing a fur suit. He seized the opportunity to look through the barrels scattered around the ball and mentally slotted some of the items into his inventory. They might come helpful later.

"You see, Schlatt, this is an anarchy server," said Wilbur, cutting through the noise for a moment to address him. The ball fell uncomfortably silent again. "You can take whatever you want here." 

"That's good. I already took several things from a house earlier labelled 'TommyInnit,'" Schlatt said, just for the bit. 

"What?" Tommy objected. Schlatt ignored him and continued ransacking the barrels, as if he owned them. If he acted confident, no one would question him. He'd learned that from his time in SMP Live, from his years of mock confidence.

"Do you remember the cuck shed?" Wilbur said finally, breaking the silence.

"Yeah, I do. I bet I'd catch Fur Guy," Schlatt said, not missing a beat. Wilbur didn't have what it took to be a businessman, but he was smart, and they understood each other. It was why they had been friends on SMP Live. It was why Dream hadn't found them yet. 

Schlatt clambered back out of the ball, abandoning Wilbur to fill the silence on his own. He built up the mental wall again and immediately felt the cold settle back around him. While he picked his way through the trees back to the tower, no one would watch or hear him. For this short time he didn't have to act out a persona. 

When had he become so pathetic? A few months back, he could hold a persona for days on end. Now, he could barely stand an hour. 

Wilbur's words plagued him with memories of SMP Live as he began building across the path from the tower. The dim light of the lava shone on the cobblestone he placed and his breaths were labored. His fingers were so, so numb. It was like building the KFC Dome, the building he'd labored over day and night. But at least then he'd had Traves, and the two of them had kept each other company. 

He felt a pang of loss. Connor, Traves, Wilbur, Ant, the KFC Dome — they'd all gone. SMP Live was a failure of his. He had gone in with dreams of building an empire and that dream had been crushed. It was odd to build the cuck shed here now, in Dream's SMP. It had been one of Schlatt's signature moves in SMP Live. For unfortunate fools like Fundy, it was a trap that dunked them in water. For the people watching, it was entertainment. Schlatt had no doubt Tommy would know what it was, but the idea that he was Tommy's hero? That was laughable. 

The sky had begun to lighten. The voices in the channel grew louder as the others neared. Schlatt frantically finished scribbling "cuck shed" on a sign and stood on top of the nearest block, a crafting table. His hair was still presentable and his suit as unwrinkled as ever. Good. He focused and imagined his voice amplified, as if he was pressed against a bad microphone. He cleared his throat loudly as the others walked down the path towards his cuck shed. 

"Get in your places," Schlatt commanded, his voice blasting in the channel. His signature 'funny mic' voice. He gestured across the path, which he could now see fell into a cliff. The others backed up against the fences that lined it and faced him. So obedient. So gullible. 

The light also made it easier to see Tommy's awestruck expression. It caught Schlatt off-guard. 

He turned to look at Fundy instead. The furry's whiskers twitched as he realized he was being watched, and his tail started swishing back and forth. Would Fundy shake himself out after being dunked in water, like a real fox? 

"Hey Fundy," Schlatt said, smiling, a man greeting a good friend. For this moment, he was an entertainer, a ringmaster. Not a confused old man. "It must get really hot and sweaty in that fur suit you wear all the time. Why don't you step into my cuck shed?" 

He could hear the hushed laughter from his audience of Tommy, Tubbo, Wilbur, and Sapnap. Only Fundy was silent, but Schlatt wasn't disheartened. It was like luring in a potential customer. He needed to show that there was no risk involved. He turned and stepped into the cobblestone box he'd built for a few seconds, demonstrating how safe it was. 

"See?" he said, stepping back out. He reached over and clapped Fundy's shoulder. "Nothing to be afraid of, Fundy. It's your turn to get inside the cuck shed!" He began clapping, cheering Fundy on, and the others quickly joined in. Fundy's eyes darted around nervously, but no one else stood up to say anything. He was alone. 

He stepped into the shed. 

"Ten!" Schlatt shouted, his audience joining in. It was another odd feeling, having all of them chime in. He'd never done this with a crowd before. He'd gotten used to cucking people on his own.

"Five!" This group was just strange. He'd had to fight for a chance to speak in the past, had to prove that he was worth listening to before anyone listened. He'd had to defend himself against the insults and the contempt of people who didn't agree with the way he acted. But here, he could see Tommy cheering. Here, people looked up to him. 

"One!" Schlatt stared straight at Fundy and opened the trapdoors beneath the furry's feet, dunking him into a pit of cold water. Fundy's shriek cut off comically and the others immediately began laughing, as if on cue. Schlatt laughed along and watched as Tommy danced around like a lunatic.

He enjoyed this, Schlatt realized. He enjoyed being listened to and having them laugh at his antics. Maybe his empire could have been like this, full of people like this, if he hadn't given in. 

He shivered suddenly. He'd forgotten how cold it was outside. He could still hear the voices in his head yelling at him about how offensive he was, how he should leave the others alone, how he would never be able to build something that lasted. SMP Live was a fresh memory, even though he wanted it to collect dust in the back of his mind.

The sky was changing colors rapidly now, the dark blue fading into light purples. Schlatt fought the urge to wrap his arms around himself to fend off the chill. The excitement had lasted for a second, but now he was alone again. Wilbur was talking to Tommy to the side, and Tubbo and Sapnap were hoisting Fundy out of the water. Schlatt turned towards Wilbur and water sprayed against the back of his suit as Fundy shook himself dry, as if the world itself was reminding him how he didn't belong here. 

"Tommy," Wilbur was saying, "there's a lot of contention these days. And a lot of people don't like Schlatt, but I know that he's the closest thing to a hero you have. I invited him here for you." 

If only. 

Schlatt walked to the edge of the cliff and the rickety fence that traced it. There was a bench there next to a jukebox, and he sat down. His suit was beginning to wrinkle from the water. Wilbur's words had found their way in, had forced SMP Live to the front of his mind again. Did Tommy look up to him the way Schlatt had looked up to AntVenom? Ant had made fun of him. Ant loved the music disc 'stal,' which Schlatt hated. Ant... shit. He was sure he'd remember more once he warmed up and got sleep. He had to know more about his hero than that. 

The bench creaked as Tommy sat down next to him, strangely quiet. The upbeat melody of 'blocks' played from the jukebox, and Schlatt used it to tune out the sounds of Tubbo and Sapnap struggling with Fundy in the background. 

"I got tired, Thomas," Schlatt said, answering the boy's unspoken question suddenly. The sleep deprivation was muddling his thoughts, and the ringmaster act was gone. The old man had vanished too. "That's why I left SMP Live. I was looking for something that would fulfill me, but on SMP Live I had to pretend to be someone else instead." 

He paused for a second, trying to decipher Tommy. Had the boy been acting out a persona this whole time, too? He wouldn't be surprised if Tommy was. "When I was alone, I just hated myself."

Tommy was staring at him, still awestruck, but Schlatt could see the doubt in his eyes. He'd tried to warn the boy, tell him that he had to be genuine to accomplish anything, but of course Tommy didn't believe him. What had he thought would happen? 

Schlatt sunk back into the confused old man persona, letting it wrap around him like a blanket. Wilbur had been wrong in saying that Schlatt was Tommy's hero. He'd been wrong that Schlatt could change anything. Tommy had only wanted to see the Schlatt-Wilbur dynamic, so Schlatt would give him more of that and then leave. Wilbur would never contact him again, as part of the deal. Schlatt would stop being reminded of SMP Live. 

Schlatt opened his mouth again to crack a joke, then noticed a flash of color. A green figure was standing at the bottom of the cliff, aiming a crossbow at him. Dream had found him at last. 

Schlatt looked at Tommy, the two of them framed against the rising sun. Goddamn seven-year-old. He wanted to believe that Wilbur was right, that people like Tommy actually respected him. He remembered how he'd felt laughing with the others about the cuck shed, how they'd all fallen silent when he spoke. His dreams could never come true, of course. SMP Live had taught him that. But they weren't all lost. 

Schlatt had no ties to this world, for now. He was free to go and bide his time. But someday, he'd come back and wreck some havoc, and things would be a lot different.

*jschlatt left the world.* The crossbow bolt thudded into the dirt. The music disc kept playing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to the very beginning!  
> This is kind of like the 'prologue' chapter. I tried to use it to set up background for the future. And yes I know I'm 5 months late
> 
> Upload schedule unsure. Feedback very much appreciated :)

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how often this will be updated! Focusing on short stories about Tales from the SMP for now :)


End file.
